Our Broken World
by February The Seventh
Summary: The world is in ruin, the nations are scattered, nothing but war and violence and the stench of death around every corner. They've been on the run ever since. However, all was not as it seems. An unknown group rises from the ashes of this broken world. A group who are convinced that the existence of nations is what dooms them all. ((Steampunk/Post-apocalypse AU. No pairings.))


**AN/** This is my first fic in years that I've actually put up on here, so I hope it's somewhat good. I'm not sure whether this will even be continued, I mean I do have the plot all thought out but if it's not any good then I probably won't write the other chapters. If I do finish it, there's no set date of when I'll upload the second chapter… Anyway, I hope you like it.**  
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**Warning:** This fanfiction will contain themes that may be triggering for some people! Please, read with caution!

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia does not belong to me.

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><p><span><em>Our Broken World<br>Chapter one_

_29th November, 2029 10.38 pm_  
><em> London, England<em>

It was an empty bar with a musky, dank smell, where a man was sat tapping his fingernails softly against the glass before bringing it to his lips. The cool liquid burned as it slipped down the back of his throat. His hat was tipped low, casting a shadow over his face so that nothing could be seen apart from his pink, chapped lips. A bell chimed in the distance, followed by the squeaking of the front door's hinges as they were opened and closed, however the atmosphere did not change. Everything was still and silent, perhaps too silent for the young man's liking. He would finish his glass of vodka and promptly leave - although the footsteps from the new arrival approached him and whoever it was took the seat next to him.

"There are plenty of other seats," The man informed, not taking his eyes off of the wall of varying bottles of alcohol opposite him.

"I wanted to talk to you. Who are you?" The stranger asked. The first man lowered his hat further and, with a smile, glanced at the stranger out of the corner of his eye.

"My name? It depends, who am I talking to?" He brought the glass back to his lips and took another drink while the man ordered himself one of 'whatever he's got'.

"Vargas." The man replied simply, nodding a quick thanks to the bartender and accepting his drink. He found himself almost flinching at the name, but instead took another large gulp of vodka and set down an empty glass. Maybe he would get another.

"I knew a man named Vargas once." He turned his head further this time, so he could take in this stranger's features. "Are you not him?"

"Perhaps not." He replied, and the bar was once again shrouded in quiet. Another vodka was placed before him and the two strangers drank a little while in a thick silence.

After his second vodka had been downed, he simply stood and shrugged on his jacket, brushing his clothes down and adjusting his hat so it was once again covering the entirety of his face.

"I am sure we will meet again… Italy Veneziano," The man gave a little smirk and moved toward the exit.

Feliciano's face contorted into a strange, almost sour look like somewhat of a scowl that was much more suited to his elder brother than to him. "You know we don't go by those names anymore, Francis."

"Oh?" Francis chuckled softly, "It seems you saw through my disguise. Admittedly, it was not a very good one." Francis nodded a final goodbye and promptly hurried out of the dingy bar, and into the rain that appeared to have started after the Italian entered. He clicked his tongue and sighed - hopefully his hat would shield the worst of the rain from his hair.

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><p><em>29th November, 2029 11.02 pm<em>  
><em> London, England<em>

The only sound on the eerily quiet streets of London was the methodical thudding of Feliciano's shoes on the cold, wet pavement. He pulled the collar of his jacket up so it hid the back of his neck from the view of any onlookers. He would pick up his pace once he neared the building he resided in, fumble with his keys and unlock the door as quickly and silently as was possible to do so.

It was warm inside his house, though that was all it was. He found he could not possibly call it a home, no matter how much he had tried to. Finally, he could remove his outer layers and relax in peace. Finding a new pub would be troublesome, but he daren't go back into that same alley without risking meeting another old friend.

He took off his shoes and left them by the door before padding softly into the sitting room where the tv was crackling lightly from bad signal.

"I'm home," He said, causing the figure on the sofa switch off the TV and turn around.

"Welcome back, Feli. You're late again, what have I told you about being late?"

"Sorry, fratello, I… I met somebody interesting at the pub I went to."

"Oh?" Lovino Vargas was the elder of the two, and was slightly more responsible than his younger brother – although not much could be said about responsibility for either of them particularly. "You stink of alcohol, by the way. Do we have any in the fridge?"

"No… I don't think we do. We can get some tomorrow if we don't," Feliciano made his way back through the hall and into the kitchen, kneeling down by the small fridge and pulling the door open. "Ah! We have beer! Do you want some beer, Lovi?"

Lovino grunted what Feliciano assumed was a 'yes' from the other room, so he took the remaining two cans out of the fridge, kicking it shut with his foot and making his way back to the sofa. "So, who was it you met at the pub?" Lovino raised a suspicious eyebrow, peering over at his brother from his can of beer.

"Oh, right. Francis was there. I didn't talk to him about anything but we established we recognised one another…"

"Idiot! What part of being discreet don't you understand, Feli?!"

"But I trust Francis—"

"No, No you don't, we can't trust anybody, you know that-" Lovino scolded through gritted teeth

"…'We'? Can I trust you?" Feliciano interrupted shortly, almost as if he knew what the answer was going to be. He didn't even need to ask it in the first place.

"I…" Lovino glanced down into his beer, swirling it around before meeting his brother's gaze again. "You know that trusting people right now is something we shouldn't do!"

"You're right; we shouldn't, which is why I should be able to choose who to trust and who not to trust for myself. My brother can't tell me who not to trust if I can't even trust him in the first place! You can have the rest of my beer. I'm going to bed." Feliciano placed his half empty beer onto the table and briskly stood from the sofa, hurrying upstairs and out of his brother's sight.

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><p><em>30th November, 2029 4.12 am<em>  
><em> Berlin, Germany<em>

"Hurry up! We have to go!"

"Why? This is the third time this week we've moved – I just want a good night's rest for once!"

"You know very well why, Alfred, now move! And get your feet off the table!"

"At least tell me we're leaving in advance next time!" Alfred groaned, rolling his eyes before pulling himself up off of the chair he had draped himself over. "Alright, where's my bag?"

"I've got it here," the Englishman replied, handing Alfred a backpack full of various necessities such as food and drink and paper and a little money to spend on occasion. "We need to be ready to go in ten minutes at the latest,"

"I'm fine, let's just go." Alfred stretched up his arms and yawned loudly before reaching over to the arm of the chair and retrieving a small notebook which had fallen in between the crack of the seat and the arm. "Where are we going this time?"

"Hungary. It's likely it would be far more hospitable than most other places right now. I had been hoping to get to Switzerland, but Vash is probably still there, and he never liked me anyway so I wouldn't want to risk it. The same goes for Italy, if either of the brothers are there, who knows what will happen." Arthur covered his mouth with a hand and yawned, retrieving his own bag from the table and moving toward the door which he opened to let Alfred through.

"How do you know someone we don't want to see isn't in Hungary, though?" Alfred raised an eyebrow in question.

"Well, we can never be certain. It's why we're not staying here in Berlin, and why we haven't stayed anywhere for over a week since it happened,"

"Right. Gotcha." Alfred nodded in understanding, shoving his hands into his pockets as he fell into step beside Arthur.

Berlin was cold, and both the American and the Englishman had to draw short, sharp breaths in the brisk wind. It was cold, and civilisation was scarce – particularly in the area they had been staying in, which was why they had stayed there in the first place. The place was layered with a thin coat of snow that crunched when they stepped on the freshly fallen stuff. It made Arthur wonder if it was snowing in London – probably not, it took a lot to get it to snow in England. Still, Arthur had always liked to look over the river Thames as snow fell from the sky and into the river. If only he could go back.

A child ran in front of them and across the deserted road, giggling and dancing in what looked like a pair of new, red shoes.

Arthur gave a small smile as he walked, "I remember when you were that small," he commented absently, watching as the young girl called out something in German and disappeared up an alleyway

Alfred scoffed, "You sound like a grandpa when you say that,"

"Shut up, I do not!"

"You so do."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned back to face the road, his lips pressed into a thin line. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of gloves that he put on, as well as a tatty hat that would hopefully at least keep the worst of the cold away. Clouds begun to coat the sky and snow began falling softly. They had to keep moving. If they didn't, they would probably get stuck in a bad snowstorm, or they could freeze to death – that was another possibility.

"Arthur?" Alfred spoke after a long while, surprising the Brit with a somewhat more sincere tone than usual.

"Hm?"

"Do you think everything will be okay?" he asked, stopping Arthur in his tracks. The Brit sighed and shook his head.

"No. No I don't." He replied, before picking up his pace, leaving Alfred to trail slowly behind him. There was an awkward silence left hanging while the two of them walked. Arthur retrieved a compass from his pocket to check which direction they were to go in before slipping it back inside and pointing to the left. "This way."

Alfred kicked at the frosty layer of icy snow as he walked. The sun was still hidden beneath the grey clouds – it was just coming up to dawn, he noted. Arthur suddenly stopped in his tracks, Alfred almost bumping into the back of him.

"Er, Arthur…?" There was no response, the Brit just stared straight ahead with an odd expression on his face. "Artie? Earth to Arthur? You alright, dude?"

"…What? Oh, yes, I… I get the sense something's about to happen. I suddenly felt really uneasy for some reason." Arthur frowned, pulling the sleeves of his jacket further down over his wrists and taking a deep breath.

"I-It's not like what happened last time, is it?" Alfred asked meekly, his facial expression turning into one of worry.

"No, no, it's not like that. I'm not about to be attacked I don't think. It's more like..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. I may be coming down with a cold. It's fine, when we make it to Hungary we can rest up there." Alfred gave him a disbelieving look, but continued following behind him in silence.

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><p><em>30th November, 2029, unknown time<em>  
><em> Unknown location<em>

"Where am I?" The shaky voice of a small, nameless boy asked. "Wh-What are you going to do to me?" However, there was no response. It was too dark for the boy to see, too cold for him to even coherently think. He was surrounded by stone walls, an iron door would have barred his escape if he wasn't already bound in thick, heavy chains.

The sound of footsteps rang through the building and what sounded like a large crank was turned, and the door squealed loudly when he opened.

"Hello," the mysterious figure smiled down at the boy. "I believe you already have that figured out. You're in a place nobody will find you, so don't worry. We'll only hurt you if you fail to tell us everything we want to know."

"I… I don't, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you!"

"Ah… I see. We'll have to do this the hard way, then." The figure kicked the boy's face hard enough that he could hear the crunching of his jaw as it broke, and then everything went black.

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><p><em>30th November, 2029, 6.32 am<em>  
><em> London, England<em>

Feliciano jolted upright suddenly, a yelp caught in the back of his throat. He sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced over at Lovino who was sleeping beside him and was grateful that his nightmare hadn't woken him up. At least his brother was peaceful. He'd always preferred sharing beds with people, he felt calmer and safer but for some reason he would have much preferred to be in the privacy of a room he could call his own, instead of one he had to share with his brother.

Obviously the tightness on money would never allow for such a thing. If he didn't spend it all on alcohol for him and Lovi, they might've been in a better situation than they currently were. With very little possessions, they were often bored stiff, although not having many possessions allowed for them to make a run for it if there were any need to do so. He hoped it was soon, he was beginning to not be able to stand the place.

He stretched his arms up in the air and scratched the back of his head, slipping out of bed and making his way through the small hallway and into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. He scanned the contents but gave a disappointed look when he remembered he and Lovino had the remaining alcohol last night. With a sigh, he went back into his room and pulled on a shirt and trousers, slipping on a pair of black shoes and a jacket before snatching his keys and leaving the warmth of the house.

It was a lot colder than the night before. Frost layered the ground, crunching beneath his feet if he stepped. If there were more, he would be tempted to ask Lovino if he wanted to build a snowman with him, but he remembered he had much more important business than to worry about playing in the snow. Getting the alcohol. He was surprised at himself, actually, that he had become the brother more likely to go out seeking to get at least a little tipsy on most nights. Luckily, the little shop on the corner of the street they lived on sold cheap alcohol. It wasn't that nice, but at least it was alcohol.

His hands tingled with cold, and Feliciano wished he'd taken the time to find a scarf and a pair of gloves, but he was only going down the road and back. He hadn't even taken the time to shower, which he kind of regretted now.

He picked up two six packs of beer from the fridge and set them down on the counter, rummaging through his pockets for the money. A brief moment of panic set in his face when he couldn't find his money but sighed with relief once he pulled out just enough for both packs of beer. With his hands full, he nodded a thanks to the shop owner and hurried back to his house.

Relishing in the warmth of his house, Feliciano kicked off his shoes and placed the packs of beer on a counter, ready to be put in the fridge later.

"Lovi?" He called, but for some reason his brother didn't reply. Perhaps he was still asleep. Feliciano frowned, grasping the door handle and pushing open the door to their bathroom.

"Lovino, I-" Feliciano froze. Lovino was stood facing him, and another, taller figure was above him. A knife was at his brother's neck.

"Feliciano, RUN!"


End file.
